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ine, of course! Who else could I mean?" "Oh-oh. Yes, I had forgotten all about her." He might have been talking of a fly that for a moment had buzzed by his side. The cruel indifference of his manner stung me into quick retort. "Yet you seemed very kind--you _were_ very kind to her a few minutes ago. Do you always forget so quickly?" A movement of his hand reduced the speed of the engine. We had left the village far behind, and the wide high road stretched before us like a brown ribbon, sloping gently up and down the grassy slopes. For miles ahead there was not a soul in view. Ralph Maplestone stared at me and I stared back at him. Seen close at hand, his plain face had an attraction of its own. It looked strong and honest; its tints were all fresh and clean, speaking of a healthy, out-of-door life. No little child had ever clearer eyes. They didn't look so stern as I had believed. "What have I to remember? Delphine came for a drive; I'm glad she enjoyed it, but it is over. Why should I think of her any more?" "Oh, no reason at all!" I said testily. I felt testy, as if from a personal injury. "Only when one has a friend, it is agreeable to believe that out of sight is not immediately out of mind. But, of course, I am a woman. Women's memories are proverbially longer than men's." The speed slackened still further. Now we were rumbling along at a speed which made conversation easy. The blue eyes gave me another keen glance. "Women burden their memories with a thousand trivialities. Men brush them aside, and keep to the few that count. In the big things of life they are less forgetful than women!" I smiled, a slow, superior smile, and spoke in a forbearing voice:-- "Do you think you--er--_really_ understand very much about women?" "No--I don't. How can I? I don't know any," he replied bluntly, and the answer was so surprisingly, illogically different from what I expected, that involuntarily I laughed, and went on laughing while he stammered and tried to explain. "Of course I have my opinion--every fellow has. One has eyes. One can't go through life without _seeing_. But, personally, it's quite true. I _don't_ know any. Never have done!" "Your mother?" "You would think so, but we are too much alike--tongue-tied--can't say what we feel. She is more at home with my sister, who chatters from morning till night, and has no reticences, no susceptibilities. We care fo
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